Of Composers & Maestros
by boytroll
Summary: Because what really is time to a sage of the former being—one who has seen the earth revolve and rotate so many times that they can feel the dirt beneath their feet shift and ache with a vehement lust, so enchanting and rocky and absolutely nauseating they can't help but beg—plead—the vetigo to end, to stop, to rip them away from this wound of an orb? / Lil bit o' Bennefrost fluff.


_**Of Composers & Maestros**_

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><p>Gelid fractals waltz whimsy across the smooth expanse of glass, flowing like silk from the hushed finger pads that press, and ebbing like an ocean whose presence is world-shatteringly absent. Pale fingernails slide through the grooves of the lace as if they belong to a weathered tailor of such craft; baby-blues peaking, illuminating a fathomless world in such tender scratches of white. Chocolate eyes peer through—but it isn't until the last burst of crystalline detail threads along its path that they finally acknowledge the talent obscured by a veil of their own masterpiece. Freckles curl around a smile; Jamie Bennett breathes warmly, "Jack Frost,"; and the biting, airy chill that follows the name is more comforting than the high of the clouds, the innocuous nestling of wind whisps.<p>

The statement is settled, firm. There is nothing else that needs to be said, truth be told; but the solidity is spoken (broken) in lush, velvet tones. The words are full and bare as they stir on the younger's tongue. A testament to his rapidly passing age, Jack reminds himself, as he fights the urge to swat at the discomfort itching within his veins. Instead, he offers an over-worn smile, crinkles the sides of his eyes like he knows he's supposed to. A tactless defense mechanism.

"Hey there, Squirt," (But his windpipes don't work right; his strained voice is a bit too tight.) "Long time, no see." He chuckles like silicon.

Cocoa swirls: an eyeroll. "Yeah, try two whole years." Jamie smirks to hide the bitterness.

"Sorry." The eternal youth winces, flashes of the time spent away crashing down behind his eyelids; brief panics of global-warming, snuffing out the lingering dream-haunts, strokes of parlous parties with the spirits he still couldn't peel his resent from. Dull knuckles drift through frostbitten hair as he swallows bile, bats away the fit of nervousness. "I guess time just started to slip by…" he murmurs (because what really _is_ time to a sage of the former being—one who has seen the earth revolve and rotate so many times that they can feel the dirt beneath their feet shift and ache with a vehement lust, so enchanting and rocky and absolutely nauseating that every time they recognize their smallness in this universe they can't help but whimper and beg—plead—the vetigo to end, to stop, to rip them away from this wound of an orb?), but suddenly, he is gripped from his musings as his air supply is whisked away by strong, once-bony arms in a crush of his ribcage. Jack's eyes become slits. His breathing flicks in and out of the range of mundane as he greedily inhales, tries to reaffirm the wind that is lapping at his tongue—encircling his nostrils—washing over those lustered teeth. In, out, in, out, he tells himself as his entire body tenses; muscles clamping together and nerve endings straining for the anticipated pain. But Jamie only snuggles closer, nuzzles his face into the breast of that creased, cerulean sweatshirt, and sighs. The exhale is warm through the fabric of the sprite's clothing, but it's the closest semblance of discomfort he's awarded with.

Ashen eyebrows furrow. A _hug,_ this is a _hug,_ Jack reminds himself. Humans _hug._ And he can be _felt _again.

"I missed you," Jamie presses into the sweater, and Jack's hands cascade, curl around that warm, warm, warm human form…

Fractals dance along the back of Jamie's T-shirt, the frozen patches croaking in protest as they break off with the Bennett's every breath (but he doesn't appear the least bit bothered; burrows further into the aged fabric and pretends Jack's heart still thumps to the pulse he can hear somewhere between his ears). Jack inhales for the first time in a while, the shrieking processes of his mind finally drowning themselves in that familiar beat. His voice is staccato.

"I missed you too."

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><p><strong>Something I wrote a long time ago, that I dug up on my old Google Drive! I brushed up a bit of the grammar and ended up enjoying it. This is my first submission to the RotG fandom! :D<strong>

**Thank you so much for taking the time to read, I hope you enjoyed my fanfic! And please, don't forget to R&R—I adore any form of feedback! **


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